This �morning sickness� (I still want to know who came up with that name for this 24/7 affliction) is really bumming me out.

I get hungry for something. I grab said food. I lose my appetite for said food. I want to cry.

Last night we went to Outback Steakhouse so I could have my comfort food. Cheese fries and a prime rib, medium-well. The cheese fries were heavenly � but I didn�t stuff myself on them, because I knew the prime rib was coming. When it arrived � it was BRIGHT red. �Ummmmm, I don�t think that�s medium-well,� I said pushing the plate away. �Oh, no,� said the cheery food-delivery-girl-who-wasn�t-our-waiter, �It�s medium-rare!�

Bleah.

They whisked it away (thank GOD, because looking at that raw meat was making me really queasy) and cooked it until it was medium-well, then brought it back.

And of course, by the time it came back, there was NO WAY in hell I was going to eat it. The mere thought � eew. Even now, I can barely think about it without my stomach lurching in protest.

It�s in my fridge � I brought it home so Blue could eat the leftovers � and it�s taunting me.

I bought a couple of pregnancy magazines today � wow, they�re really just Cosmo for pregnant ladies. I was hoping for some content, you know? Information that teaches me something useful about pregnancy.

Now I�ll admit I�m enjoying all of the fashions � I�m going to have to go shopping for maternity clothes in the next four to six weeks, so I�m scoping out the cute clothes. That�s cool.

But the rest of the content � sheesh. Disappointing, to say the least. �Is it him or my hormones?� �Seven facts they *won�t* tell you about labor and delivery!� �Sex during pregnancy!�

Oy. My head hurts from such vapid content.

Of course the one thing that all of the ads in those magazines have done is make me FEAR breastfeeding. That�s right, fear. When I�m NOT pregnant I have sensitive breasts. Now that I�m pregnant, they hurt all the time. So then I look at ads for products to �soothe your cracked, dry, sore nipples� or breast pumps that �remember and mimic your preferred pumping rhythm� � eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyaaaah.

The other day my OB did a breast exam � I seriously thought she was going to have to scrape me off the ceiling. Blue laughed when she left the room and said, �Wow, I don�t think I�ve ever seen your toes curl so hard before!� Yeah, because it was that or punch out the good doctor.

I�m all for breast feeding. I�m a nurse. I�m smart. It�s good for the baby, it�s good for the mother, it�s good for the environment, and it�s an all-around good thing. I�m down with it.

But given the bilateral breast sensitivity that I�ve got going, I can guarantee you that I�m not looking forward to it.

I fully plan to work with a lactation consultant before delivery so that we can get past some of my squeamishness � I�m game to start breastfeeding, but I know I�ll need a nice, matronly woman helping me figure it out.

I�ve got to stop thinking about my sore breasts now. Seriously.

I�m enjoying The Fisher Queen�s blog. She�s one day more pregnant than I am, so I�m really enjoying reading about her pregnancy. We�re paralleling quite nicely, and it�s comforting.

I�m not saying I don�t like reading my other friends� blogs. My friends with kids. My infertile friends. My gay friends. I love keeping up with everyone � those I know in life outside of the blog world and those I�ve known only because we blog together.

But I�m glad to find new people to read � people who are going through similar things � and hey, if The Fisher Queen is going through everything one day before I do, then it�s like testing the waters. Like in a scary movie, when the lead character hears a noise and says, �Let�s find out what that noise is. You go first!�

I am struggling to figure out what to do with my education. I am two semesters away from finishing my master�s in nursing, so I can be an advanced practice nurse (I would be a Clinical Nurse Specialist, which is like a Nurse Practitioner. I�d be a primary care provider, with prescriptive authority. Nifty.)

The problem is, the spring semester next year is LOADED with clinical hours. I would need to spend at least three full 8-hour days away from the house every week in order to get all of my clinical coursework done, in addition to two 2-hour classes on campus.

Mmmm. That�s just not going to work with a newborn at home.

I talked to my advisor to find out if I could get that clinical work done early. She fully supported that idea and told me to go talk to our Program Director.

The PD said no. Well, she either said �no� or �hell no� or �ha ha ha ha!� or something. It was traumatic. Not only did she say I can�t do the clinical early, but she said several choice things.

1. I should just stay in the program and do that clinical work with the baby at home. �Babies sleep all the time anyway. You�ll want to get out of the house, you�ll want all that time away from the baby. You won�t miss anything important.� (I shit you not. A NURSE told me this, with a straight face.)

2. I can graduate now, with a master�s degree in nursing, but not finish the advanced practice component. �That way, you�ll have a master�s degree, even though you can�t practice as an APN.� I responded to that one with, �I already have a master�s degree � I�m not looking for the door prize. I�d like to finish my program.�

3. I would be foolish (her word, not mine) to complete the advanced practice component now, anyway. If I stay home for the first two years of my kid�s life, I will have trouble finding a job later (having graduated but not worked for two years). Also, I won�t be able to get recertified in two years if I haven�t had any clinical hours.

Faaahck.

I think I�m not so much upset with the prospect of leaving the path I�ve been on for four years, as much as I am kind of bummed that life is already having to change. I�m not begrudging the change, nor is it probably a huge deal in the grand scheme of things � but I�m not ready, mentally, for this.

I always knew that getting pregnant would change life as I know it. I�ve already written up the ad that I will place next weekend to sell my motorcycle (*sob*). I decided not to join my ice hockey team this spring because I knew I�d just have to give it up when we got pregnant. I already knew I�d be giving up my identity as a �working woman� to stay at home with the kid(s).

None of this is news.

But I�m only eight weeks and two days pregnant. And I�m an overachiever. And I�m mad that they won�t make an exception and let me rock through my coursework early so I can get the degree I had planned on getting. And I�m a little (a teeny little bit) resentful that I can�t do it all the way I want to do it.